


future rust

by valkyriepilot



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Anxiety, Anxiety Attacks, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Panic Attacks, Post-Season/Series 07, Protective Keith (Voltron), Shiro (Voltron) Has Anxiety, s8 doesn't exist
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-24
Updated: 2019-05-24
Packaged: 2020-03-14 15:02:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,387
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18950488
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/valkyriepilot/pseuds/valkyriepilot
Summary: Nothing feels right. He does his best to ignore it, throwing himself head first into his work as usual, but Shiro can't shake the nagging feeling in the back of his head that something is wrong.Even if he knows that everything is fine, that doesn't always mean Shiro is okay.





	future rust

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was kind of hard to write given that it deals with something I deal with semi-regularly in real life. But it was worth it to be able to put my experiences into words and to be able to relate to one of my favorite characters through that!
> 
> I hope you enjoy reading this!
> 
> Thanks so much to [Kelsey](https://twitter.com/LionessNapping) for beta reading this for me! ❤
> 
> Title comes from 'Spanish Sahara' by Foals, which I listened to on repeat while I worked on this.

Nothing feels right.

The thought has been hanging over him all day, right from the moment he woke up after a pitiful amount of sleep. He just feels... off. Keith’s already left by then to test some simulations, but Shiro wouldn’t have wanted to bother him with a passing feeling anyway. He does his best to ignore it, throwing himself head first into his work as usual, but Shiro can't shake the nagging feeling in the back of his head that something is wrong.

His agenda is mercifully light today, only needing to direct the Atlas to a nearby planet for a supply restock, two brief meetings, and then the usual piles of paperwork sitting in his office. This type of flexibility in his schedule is something he would normally be grateful for; after all, his friends and especially Keith have been urging him to take it easy. But it couldn't have come at a worse time.

Time seems to drag on as he stands at the Atlas command console. Shiro focuses on giving out orders, keeping his voice steady as he addresses the bridge crew. Checking and double checking the day's maintenance report, he tries to assure himself that, yes, everything is absolutely fine. The take off goes without a hitch, and soon they're cruising through space at a moderate pace, only about four hours from their destination.

Piloting usually calms Shiro's nerves. The goal he's had since childhood, being captain of an interstellar vessel traveling through space, finally realized. Even after everything he's been through it still feels like a dream come true. But today, with such a simple route that he could really just put on autopilot and walk away from... it's not doing anything for him. For his own sake, Shiro insists on piloting the whole trip manually under the guise of trying to shave off some travel time.

He finds himself guiltily wishing for an attack on their position. Maybe a group of space pirates, or just a small force of Galra still loyal to Zarkon after all this time. Just something that could demand his full attention. But no such luck, deep in heavily patrolled Voltron coalition territory as they are. The weight of unease keeps growing, an aching and heavy weight in the center of his chest. He rubs at the spot absentmindedly as he guides their descent a half hour ahead of schedule.

Coran takes over, talking to the base's landing crew over the comms. The early arrival gives Shiro time to slip away to the commissary before his impending meeting, but at the cost of leaving him alone to his thoughts. He's silent as he serves himself lunch, and seats himself in an empty corner of the mess hall.

A single bite of the sandwich he'd selected is completely tasteless in his mouth. He swallows with difficulty, the weight in his chest making it almost painful. It's so stupid. There is absolutely nothing for him to worry over but here he is struggling to even eat. He drops the sandwich back to the plate with a sigh, forcing himself to at least sip at his coffee.

A small chirp from his data pad raises his spirits for a moment, hopeful for a request for his assistance with anything. Pulling up the screen though, he's disappointed to find a reminder notification for his meeting coming up. Of course. No one wants to bother the Captain of the Atlas with trivial matters. He must have more important things to do.

As he hovers his finger over the button to close the application, he toys with the idea of sending Keith a message. Keith would never mind getting a "How's your day going, baby?" from his boyfriend. Shiro knows he'd welcome that sort of thing, even if it makes his cheeks flush the slightest shade of pink from the endearment.

But Keith is running drills with some of the younger pilots today. Shiro doesn't want to disrupt his concentration when it's already one of Keith's least favorite activities.

He puts his data pad away reluctantly and leans back in his seat. Sitting in silence as he finishes off his coffee, he tries to take deep breaths. Breathe in for four seconds, out for seven.

It doesn't help.

By the time he heads to the meeting room, each breath is sharp, painful. His head feels fuzzy, and everything around him is blurring at the edges. He takes his seat at the front right of the large table and picks up the day's notes with a trembling hand. The words won't focus on the page. Looking any longer will make him nauseous.

A hand settling on his shoulder startles him, making the world jolt into clarity for a brief moment. Long enough for Shiro to see Keith settling into the seat next to him.

"Sorry I was running late, a few cadets wanted to ask questions after the drills." Keith shakes his head with a half smile. "How did you put up with us when you were an instructor?"

The question is too much for him to pick through his brain to answer. All he can manage is a halfhearted 'hmm'.

Keith turns to look at him fully, concern etching across his features. "Shiro? Are you okay?"

"Yeah. I'm fine," he says, all too aware of how winded he sounds. "Just... kind of tired."

Before Keith can respond, Iverson stands at the front of the meeting table and clears his throat pointedly. The chatter around the room quiets down, and Keith shoots him one last questioning look before settling back for the meeting to start.

It's a short but important meeting regarding defensive preparations in reaction to an ambush. Shiro has been preparing his comments for it for more than a week, rehearsing it to himself repeatedly. He can't think of a single word of it now.

Ice grips his heart at the realization. All the officers in the room are expecting him to be prepared for this, ever the perfect representative of the Galaxy Garrison. He can't stand up there and stammer his way through vague memories of defense reports.

"Captain Takashi Shirogane will now brief us on the Atlas' current status."

They all look up to him. The former Black Paladin who came back from death and still helped lead them through the war. Loss of respect is the bare minimum he can expect in response to his meaningless anxiety.

"Uh, Shirogane?"

The weight in his chest intensifies tenfold. His head aches. It's hard to breathe. Why does it hurt so much?

"Shiro?" A soft nudge from his left. Keith. He looks up from staring at the gray table. Everyone is watching him. It's too much.

"Excuse me for a moment," he manages to say and abruptly stands from the table. He doesn't make eye contact with anyone as he makes a beeline for the door. No one tries to stop him.

There's a bathroom nearby and his feet drag him there near subconsciously. As soon as the door slides shut behind him he braces himself on the sink.

Breathe in for four seconds, out for seven. Each breath is a momentous effort. His chest is so tight that it burns. He frantically undoes the top couple buttons on the restrictive Garrison jacket, needs it to be easier to breathe. It hurts.

He glances up at he mirror over the sink, vision still blurry. The white hair and scar that greet him almost make him feel sick. It's not even really his face. Tears prick at the corner of his eyes. What a waste it was giving someone like him a new body when he can be reduced to tears by literally nothing.

He faintly hears the sound of the bathroom door sliding open. When he sees the familiar black hair come into view of the mirror he looks away, covering his face with his massive Altean hand.

He can't let Keith see him like this.

"...Shiro?" Keith's voice is low, quiet as he approaches. "What's going on?"

"Kei-" he tries to respond, but chokes on the name. It's pathetic. He can't even calm himself enough to reassure his own boyfriend. The same boyfriend that fought a life or death battle in order to save him and was willing to die with him. He will never deserve him.

There's a moment's hesitation and then footsteps getting closer. He's so tense. It's so hard to breathe. He doesn't want Keith to see him and realize just how undeserving he is.

A hand brushes gingerly against the small of his back, and Shiro just can't bring himself to pull away. The warmth of the touch is grounding after spending so much of the day off kilter. The touch becomes more firm, and Keith starts rubbing careful circles into the tense muscles there.

"Shiro," he says again, even softer this time, "No matter what’s wrong, you can tell me. I'm here for you."

The words don't make the pain go away… but they do settle Shiro's heart if only a little. Doubting Keith should never have been an option. Keith had seen Shiro at his worst, when he was at his most broken, and still he had stayed by his side. While Shiro may have been the one to say that he would never give up on him, in return Keith had promised him the same in all but words. Shiro takes a few deep breaths as best he can, trying to ignore how much it hurts, and turns to face Keith.

"There's nothing wrong," he says, voice barely a whisper. "I'm just not okay."

Keith doesn't try to appease him with platitudes or argue that he's fine, he simply nods his head. Then without a word, he tugs Shiro towards him, pulling him into a tight but nonrestrictive embrace. Shiro leans into it almost instinctively, just wanting any and all affection he can get. Tucking his face in the crook of Keith's neck, Shiro lets the tears fall. He's not sobbing or panicking, just crying silently as Keith holds him steady.

By the time Shiro finally pulls back to wipe his eyes, he's stopped shaking and the dizziness clouding his head has mostly subsided. Keith still keeps a hand on Shiro's shoulder, just in case he needs to support him once again.

"Let's head back to our quarters," Keith suggests, "Even if you can't fall asleep, resting in a bed will probably help."

Shiro glances at the door with trepidation. Mentally he doesn't feel up to walking through the corridors, and he doesn't need to look in the mirror to know how terrible he looks at the moment. He's already done enough to damage his reputation today and letting anyone see how his face looks fresh after crying would be too much for him to handle.

Keith can clearly guess what he's thinking and gives a reassuring squeeze to his shoulder. "Don't worry, I've got it covered."

He gives a quick whistle and, with no more warning than a shimmer in the air, Kosmo is suddenly rubbing up against Shiro's leg. The wolf looks up at him with those dark, puppy-like eyes and Shiro can't help but smile. He strokes the soft fur behind the wolf's ears as Keith tells him to bring them home.

There's a _whoosh_ in Shiro's ears, and then he finds himself in the safety of their room. Keith leads him towards the bed, an action that would normally have Shiro in a much different mood, but as Keith tugs his black uniform jacket off all he feels is the exhaustion finally overriding his the oppressive feeling encompassing him. Sinking into the soft surface of the bed is almost like heaven for his frayed nerves.

When Keith retreats to the small kitchenette in the far corner of the room, Shiro has a moment of clarity. He still has another meeting scheduled, not to mention he needs to apologize to Iverson and the officers for bailing out midway through the defense meeting. It's so unprofessional, he needs to get his data pad, he can't just lie here-

"Hey."

Shiro jolts at Keith’s voice. He hadn't even realized that Keith had returned. Violet eyes looking him over suspiciously, Keith passes him a glass of water.

"I just sent Iverson a message," he says. "I told him you were sick and that you'll get him the security info later. Just take it easy and make sure you drink all of that. Don’t want you dehydrated."

Shiro obediently takes a sip, still finding it hard to swallow. "I still have another meeting this afternoon..."

Keith huffs out a laugh, sitting on the edge of the bed beside Shiro. "If anyone tries to come up here and bother you about it, they'll have to talk to me first. I already cleared my schedule too."

Guilt creeps up unbidden, almost choking him once again. "You don’t have to do that. I don't want to get in the way of your work."

"Shiro," Keith says plainly. "I don't have any work piled up. It's fine."

Shiro pauses, almost wanting to argue the point, but the gaze Keith's fixing him with has him nodding his head in acceptance. Keith wants to watch over him. Just to make sure he's safe while he rides out whatever the anxiety throws his way.

Keith tosses aside his own uniform jacket and shifts his position, lying down beside Shiro with an arm thrown lightly over his chest. A sudden warmth on his feet signals Kosmo taking his own place, curled at the end of the bed.

"Just get some rest," Keith says, pressing a kiss to the curve of his jaw.

Things aren't immediately good. But Keith's presence, and Kosmo's too, give Shiro the security he needs to calm himself and let his eyes fall closed. He's in a space where no one will judge him. Time drifts by as he lies there, and eventually it becomes easier to breathe again. The weight on his chest finally lifting.

Right as he feels himself finally able to fall to a much needed sleep, Shiro breaks the comfortable silence with a mumble.

"Thank you, Keith. You always save me."

Keith's responding laugh is soft.

"Like I said. As many times as it takes."

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed. ❤  
> I'd be very happy to hear your thoughts, so feel free to leave a comment!
> 
> You can find me on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/EphemeraBlossom) where I spend my time crying over sheith.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [[Podfic] future rust by valkyriepilot](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20546102) by [leftishark](https://archiveofourown.org/users/leftishark/pseuds/leftishark)




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